


Right Here Waiting (Five Times & Once)

by sashach



Series: Five Times & Once [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soccer, English translation, M/M, actually except for Bucky and Steve and Fury, the other characters are just mentioned in the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5814343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashach/pseuds/sashach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A soccer AU in which five times Bucky and Steve were together and one time they weren't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Imbrian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imbrian/gifts).
  * A translation of [Right Here Waiting (Five Times & Once)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2655080) by [Imbrian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imbrian/pseuds/Imbrian). 



> Thank you, Imbrian, for letting me translate this series. This project not only gave me a purpose but also a routined life.
> 
> A huge thank you to [Echo](http://explodingcrenelation.tumblr.com) for proofreading the fic. I honestly cannot post this series without your generous help. You're the best!

 

Steve Rogers had been playing soccer with his neighbor James Barnes on the community soccer team since he was nine, but he had asthma and he couldn’t run or jump. Coach Philips, a war veteran in their community, wanted him to watch from the sidelines and not disturb the other kids’ practice. But then he thought, _This is an after school activity for kids, there’s no reason to be bothered by the fact that Rogers can’t keep up with the other kids. Does he really have to run if he can’t run? This is soccer, not football. The kid could be a goalkeeper._

 

So two days after playing on the field with James, Steve was taken aside by Coach Philips for special training as a goalkeeper. Steve was small and skinny and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t for his life, save a goal. Philips knew very well that the boy didn’t have the physical stamina, but he continued to coach him with patience. The goalie was undoubtedly the most unique position in the sport of soccer, he said to Steve. The goalie was the only player allowed to use his hands because he was the last defense of the team. If he could guard the goal, he was also guarding the team’s victory. Steve listened and he listened hard. And even though the kids on the team kept picking on him, even though bruises mapped his body and he was sore and tired everywhere, he continued to go to practices with the Barnes’ eldest son everyday. He made a vow to himself that one day he would be the best goalie.

 

James was the eldest child of the Barnes family. Mr. Barnes was a lawyer and Mrs. Barnes was a stay-at-home mom. They had three children: James and his younger brother and younger sister. In addition, they also helped Mrs. Rogers, the widow who lived downstairs, look after her only son Steve. Mrs. Rogers was a nurse and her rosters were sometimes inconsistent, so Steve was always invited to spend the night at the Barnes’ place, especially since James was constantly asking for him to come over.

 

It was true James always demanded that Steve stay over.

 

But that was James’ only request. As the eldest son, he never asked for anything from his parents and he was always willing to share what he had with other people: he shared his chocolate with his sister, gave his video games to his brother, lent his reading report to his classmate (and stupid Clint had copied the whole report word for word without even changing his name); but he refused to share Steve with anyone. He forbade his siblings to play with Steve, refused to move their adventure tent into his siblings’ room, even though it was much bigger than his room in the attic. No one could have Steve except him.

 

Born prematurely, Steve had always been smaller than the other children his age. Mrs. Rogers was pregnant with Steve when Mr. Rogers was killed in action in Afghanistan. Grief brought Steve early to the world. Joseph Rogers was a Navy Seal and had had soft blond hair and gentle blue eyes like Steve. Apart from that, Steve was nothing like his father. Kids picked on him because he was slight and delicate, and James was always there to help him. When they were younger, James could only take the beatings with Steve because they were so out-numbered, but as time went by, James grew taller and the tables were finally turned. He was always there to rescue Steve and chase the bullies away.

 

James was good at soccer. A couple of years into the sport and he had proven himself to be a competent player; but soccer was hardly popular in the U.S. and there weren’t any high schools in Brooklyn that had a soccer team. If James wanted to play on a first rate team, the best and closest choice was Hydra High School in Manhattan. The steep tuition of a private school wasn't a problem for the Barnes family, and Coach Pierce from Hydra had already seen James’ performance in a match. James’s talent in the midfield was unparalleled. At the age of fourteen, he was able to make a decent long pass in the midfield. He was a fast runner and he could play the position of an attacking midfielder when necessary. With proper training, he would one day be an outstanding soccer player.

 

But James refused to go. He knew it was impossible for Steve to be in the same high school with him.

 

Steve trained harder than anyone. He was sharp enough to dive for the ball from where it was coming from, but his slight size also meant the ball tragically flew past his head. Steve wasn’t exactly a competent goalkeeper, and there was no way he could play for a high school in the soccer league. Additionally, the four-year tuition of a private school would be a burden for his mom.

 

”Shield’s also a good school.” Steve was staying over at the Barnes’ place as usual while his mother was working at the hospital. “They have really great art courses, the teacher is an artist of some reputation and if he’s willing to be my advisor, maybe I could apply for a college in Manhattan. Then we could go to college together. It’s no big deal if we can’t be in the same school for five years, we can always play soccer after school.”

 

”I don’t have to play soccer.” James pouted unhappily. “I can play baseball instead.”

 

Steve grabbed James’ shoulders with slight annoyance. “The James Barnes I know doesn’t give up easily.”

 

And Rogers wasn't the only one who was angry. James argued, “Who’s gonna take care of you when I go there?”

 

”You do remember that I survived the year when you went to middle school first.” Steve’s brows creased. “I can take care of myself. Nobody tries to pick on me now.”

 

That was a lie. There were still bullies who would shove Steve into the utility closet in the bathroom and lock him in there. Just two days ago, James had gone back to the building to free him when he’d failed to show up at the field.

 

”And you think you’re the only one who has the interest of others in mind, Rogers?” James sighed. “I think Hydra has art courses, too. Promise me you’ll try for the application?”

 

”Okay.” Steve would give it a try, but they both knew very well that even if he did apply for the school, he would never let his mom shoulder the high tuition. Mrs. Rogers had been experiencing fainting spells over the last two days and she’d stayed at the hospital for check-ups even though she wasn't on duty. She didn't let Steve accompany her for fear that his fragile body might catch some disease and get sick.

 

That evening, under Steve’s persuasion, James agreed reluctantly to play for Hydra. Coincidentally, the Hydra team had organized a tour during summer vacation for friendly matches with their sister schools in Europe, and James had been invited by Pierce to observe the matches. It wasn't a long trip, just one month.

 

Though envious of James, Steve wanted him to visit The Louvre on his behalf and send him some postcards. James wasn't excited about the idea of sending postcards. After all, Hydra had agreed to let Steve tag along with the team since most students would be accompanied by their parents; but Steve was unwilling to let the Barnes family pay for his trip. Unable to dissuade him, James set off to Europe with the team on June 1st, unaccompanied and lonely.

 

The trip was scheduled to end on July 2nd, and while some of them would continue to travel Europe for their vacation, James and Steve had agreed that James would return to New York before Steve’s birthday on July 4th.

 

When he returned to Brooklyn, Steve was already gone.

 

On the evening of June 26th, Mrs. Rogers fainted in the hospital during work. She was pronounced dead after an hour of emergency treatment. There was a tumor in her brain that couldn’t be detected by MRI. It was a vascular lesion caused by over exhaustion. The tumor was responsible for her constant fatigue and fainting spells, and it was the same insignificant tumor that took her life.

 

The Barneses were unaware of what had happened until Steve didn’t show up on time one Sunday morning when they were supposed to go to church together. From their penthouse, Mrs. Barnes went down to the Rogers’ apartment on the fifth floor only to find that they had already moved out.

 

Steve had left a letter for the Barnes family that was passed on by the landlord. It briefly stated in the letter that on the day that his mother had passed away, the hospital had immediately notified her family in England. Otherwise Steve would have had to have been taken away by Social Services. The Rogers family had no other next of kin to contact. It so happened that Mrs. Rogers’ cousin from London, Peggy, was on an exchange program at West Point and she had rushed to the hospital the very same evening when she got the news. She took Steve back to England with her. In the letter, Steve had written down his grandmother’s address and contact number in Liverpool, asking James to call him when he got back.

 

But the letter didn't make it for James’ return. His six year old sister was very much into paper cutting then and her paper sources came from everywhere, including the letter that Steve had written on his sketching paper in a hurry. She cut out shapes of flowers and dogs that were later swept up by the domestic help and dumped into the garbage chute. It was too late. By the time Mrs. Barnes got back from her grocery shopping, the garbage truck had left.

 

And, just like that, James lost all contact with Steve.

 

For a time, he was too angry to play soccer. He locked himself in his room and refused to speak to his sister, whom he had loved so much.

 

James still went to Hydra when the new academic year commenced, but, for an entire year, not once did he set foot on the field. Until one day. He found a picture of himself playing soccer, sketched by Steve. Steve had drawn that during one of the matches when he was a benchwarmer. Back then Steve didn't have the chance to play on the field, though he was always ready.

 

And it was just that one time Steve had his charcoal pencil with him and he drew James. Apart from some photographs they had taken together, the only things Steve left behind for James were this sketch and the memories of their time playing soccer together.

 

With the sketch in his hand and a mind full of memories, James went back to the field where they used to practice when they were children.

 

He watched a little blond boy kicking a ball with exertion; a blur of black and white flew through the sky in an arc and landed spinning on the green turf.

 

He could smell the fragrance of damp earth and the cool breeze of the summer evening.

 

James folded the piece of yellowed paper, put it in his pocket, said hi to Coach Philips, and walked to the field to practice with the other children.

 

That was the day he started playing soccer again.

 

X

 

When he was sixteen, James Barnes was selected by the United States U17 national team and went on to lead the team to win the championship. The coach of U17 back then was Lukin, a Russian descendant hailed the Winter General. As the best player under Lukin’s command, James was labeled the Winter Soldier and his name was soon recognized in the international soccer scene.

 

James never did know why Steve didn’t call. He'd been waiting for that call since he was fifteen, and five years had gone by.

 

He dropped out of school at the age of twenty when he decided to move to Germany to play for Bayern Munich. With the handsome signing bonus, he bought an apartment for his family on the Upper East Side near Central Park. The apartment wasn’t spacious, nor was it on a high level. The financial situation of the Barnes family had been on the rocks after Mr. Barnes had a stroke when James turned eighteen.

 

If the Barnes family had sold their penthouse in Brooklyn, life would have been easier, but James was reluctant to let his family rent an apartment. He made sure the whole family was supported right up to the day he set out to Germany. Besides, he’d been waiting for that call.

 

James convinced himself that Steve had forgotten all about him. He was just a childhood playmate to Steve and the blond boy had probably found better friends in Liverpool and eventually let James slip from his memories.

 

James tried to talk himself into believing that, but a voice in his head kept telling him it was impossible for Steve to forget him. He was Steve Rogers’ only friend since he was eight, right up until he was fourteen. But then again, who knew?

 

When the night was over, James Barnes would be the man of the family. He had spent time with his mother in setting up their new apartment, taking care of each detail meticulously. He had also picked a new phone number for their new apartment. Nobody was going to call the old one anyway; it was the age of the cell phone after all.

 

All the furniture had been moved to the new apartment and the whole family was already there except James. On the last night in their old penthouse, he sat alone next to the telephone with a bottle of vodka. His only drinking company was his shadow.

 

The next day, at dawn, James pulled out the telephone line and dumped the old telephone into the green garbage bin in the alley.

 

X

 

Two years ago, Bayern Munich clinched the title of Bundesliga. In the same year, the team participated in the UEFA Champions League, but lost to Arsenal before the quarterfinals.

 

One day while doing weight training, James overheard a conversation between a couple of senior teammates.

 

“Hey, Kahn, have you heard about the new Liverpool goalie?”

 

Ballack, who had just entered the room, heard the conversation and interrupted, “That kid with blond hair and blue eyes! Yeah, Dudek was injured and then someone was banned, so they introduced that rookie.”

 

“I’ve seen him play. Great moves.” Oliver Kahn took a drink of his water. “He has a bright future ahead, Steve Rogers.”

 

Steve what? Involuntarily, James walked toward their goalie and asked, “That goalie, Steve what?”

 

Astonished that the perpetually reserved kid had actually opened his mouth to talk, Kahn looked at him momentarily then quickly replied, “Rogers, Steve Rogers.”

 

“Is he American?” James pressed on.

 

Kahn turned his attention to Lessing who had started the conversation. The man considered. “I hear he’s from Liverpool.”

 

Equally surprised to hear the newbie talk, Ballack pointed at the door and smiled. “Go borrow a laptop, have a look at his pictures and you’ll know if he’s the one you know.”

 

James thanked them and headed to the physiotherapy room to borrow a laptop. He saw, on the official website of Liverpool, Gerrard and Alonso had their arms around Steve Grant Rogers.

 

Slowly, he closed the laptop. Ballack was walking past the door. “So Barnes, is he your friend?”

 

James turned around to face the dark-haired man talking to him and shook his head woodenly. “He’s not my friend.”

 

That same year at the UEFA Champions League in Istanbul, Liverpool won the championship after Steve Rogers successfully prevented three balls from entering the goal during the deciding twelve-yard place kick.

 

And James Barnes never mentioned Steve Rogers’ name again.

 

X

 

In 2006, in order to participate in the FIFA World Cup, the United States had recruited their best players to play for the national team. James Barnes was, of course, one of them. His agent told him that Steve Rogers had also accepted the call of the United States team. The Americans had no doubt that they would qualify for the tournament, but the United States Soccer Federation still wanted to try and call back their best players.

 

That day, with the same attitude he had for any league matches, James went to the field for training.

 

He was always early, but someone had beaten him to it.

 

Steve Rogers.

 

“Bucky.”

 

Against the light, Steve was walking toward James.

 

The sky above Stanford University soccer field was cloudless and luminous that morning.

 

James Buchanan Barnes almost never remembered his middle name. Bucky was a nickname only Steve had used. He lifted his head, looked at Rogers who was standing right before him, and asked coolly, “Who the hell is Bucky?”

 

All throughout their training, Steve tried to talk to James, but James had no intention of responding. Steve may have been the hero of Liverpool, the renowned newbie in Europe, but James had been playing for the national team since he was a teenager. He was the team captain who had led the United States team to victory in several international championships.

 

The coach of the national team was Nick Fury, one of the American players to play in Europe in the early years, and he had also played for Liverpool.

 

On the first day of training, Nick appointed Steve, who was barely twenty, as the captain of the United States team.

 

James wasn't surprised. His agent had told him that Fury liked Rogers very much.

 

James never told anyone that he knew him. His agent only regarded Rogers as the fake American who had appeared out of the blue and snatched Barnes’ commercial deals. His physiotherapist was also indignant on his behalf, always complaining that the barely twenty year old Steve Rogers should not be the national team captain, that Rogers was hardly qualified considering his age and experience!

 

Not once did James partake in criticizing Rogers. Not once did he think that he could take over as team captain like his agent had suggested. There were plenty of other competent players on the team.

 

In the first two matches against Guatemala and Costa Rica respectively, the Americans’ goal was breached because the defenders refused to follow Rogers’ instructions. In the first match, with Barnes’ secondary assistance, Razov scored a goal and leveled the score; but in the second match against Cost Rica, Rogers had dived in the wrong direction on the first twelve-yard penalty kick.

 

After the matches, all the vile gossip began to surface.

 

Seemed like Liverpool’s savior couldn't save his own country.

 

Since Steve had grown taller and stronger, all the bullying and teasing he had received as a kid became history, but the criticism still hurt.

 

James noticed Rogers looking at him through the wall of teammates who were doing their warm-ups, but he chose to ignore him, like he always did since their training in June. He was never alone with him. When they were surrounded by others, people would come and talk to James, while Steve was always training with the other goalies. Although Sam Wilson and Bruce Banner were more experienced than Steve, they both had high praise for his performance on the Premiere League. They were also cool with Steve being in the first lineup.

 

Nevertheless, Steve’s performance during training did take a toll due to gossip. He was, after all, only a nineteen year old kid. Later he went to Fury and asked to be released from the position of team captain and taken out of the first lineup. He thought Bruce Banner was a more suitable choice than he was to be in the first lineup, and Donavan was more befitting the role of team captain.

 

Fury rejected his request and told him to go back and concentrate on his training.

 

After the training session, Fury called James over.

 

“Pierce is an old friend of mine. He said you're an excellent player,” said Fury. James’ expression was nonchalant, but remained respectful. “He also told me something interesting. He said you and Rogers were childhood playmates?”

 

James looked at Fury, still respectful, but silent.

 

“If you’d read any of the interviews with Steve Rogers, you’d know that after arriving in England, his uncle had him sent to a boarding school famous for its militaristic discipline. The school is in the countryside of Kent County; students aren’t allowed any contact with the world outside without permission. During school vacation, his uncle would send him to a church in Northern Scotland to get to know God, and God doesn’t use cell phones. If you’d been to Rogers’ room like you would when you visit your friends, you would see that he still has a picture of the two of you together. He came to me just now to resign as team captain and from the first lineup because he has doubts about his leading ability. I’ve rejected his request, but he’ll keep coming back until I agree to put Banner in the first lineup. Banner might attack players from the opposite team if he loses control of his temper.”

 

James’ brows furrowed. He remained silent.

 

“You have a mission. Go to Rogers’ room and use whatever reasons you have, amnesia from a car accident, whatever, just let him know that you don’t recognize him, don’t let your asshole attitude affect him.”

 

James could tell Fury thought James was the reason for Steve’s distress. Although James didn’t think he had a duty to give Rogers a visit, he figured he should, however, go as a teammate. Bruce wasn't suitable to be in the first lineup and Rogers’ skills were neither rotten nor atrocious. What he thought of Rogers wouldn't change the fact.

 

And so, as Fury wished, James went to knock on Rogers’ door.

 

Having just showered, Steve opened the door with a towel wrapped around his waist. When his eyes met James’, he stood at the door, too stunned to utter a single word.

 

James entered the room without asking for permission. He surveyed the space and saw the picture on the bedside table. The picture with him in it. The one Steve had kept. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed, on the far side near the wall, a picture of a beautiful girl. Steve was still so old fashioned. Who carried pictures around with them nowadays?

 

When Rogers finally overcame his initial shock, he was at the side table in a hurry, turning over their picture together. He didn’t want to infuriate James.

 

“Do you need anything, Barnes?”

 

Once during a conversation, Steve had addressed James as Bucky unintentionally, and Sam found out that he and James had known each other before. Then one day a perplexed Sam told Steve that James denied knowing Steve. Since then, Steve tried to correct himself and finally got used to calling the brunet Barnes.

 

James turned his head and looked at him. “Bruce can’t be in the first lineup, he’s too easily enraged.”

 

Steve smiled wryly. What kind of reason was that? “But I can’t defend the goal.”

 

James scowled. “I’ve seen your performance at the UEFA Champion Leagues. You were good.”

 

Steve stared blankly at him. “…You did?”

 

James nodded. “With my teammates, by the pitch.” He picked up the picture by the bed. “Who’s this?”

 

Steve was confused. “It’s you, Bucky, you’re my friend… you… really don’t know me?”

 

James sighed. He couldn’t spin the lame lie that Fury had asked for. Might as well spit the truth. “…you’re my mission. Fury wants me to come and set things straight.” He took one step forward, pressed the picture on Steve’s chest with one hand and with his free hand, propped himself up to sit on the low cabinet by the wall. “I didn’t know what happened to you in England. I thought you’d made new friends and forgotten all about me. You never called.” He brushed away the bangs that were blocking his view. “And you’ve changed so much I barely recognize you.”

 

“The training at school helped a lot, and my asthma? Allergy, actually. The NHS in England paid for the medications and I got better, plus I exercise regularly. Bucky…” Steve walked toward James and stopped right before him, just enough to stand over him. A few moments of uncertainty lapsed. Steve steadied his hands on both his sides, bracketing him in. “…I missed you so much.”

 

“And you never thought of asking your agent to look for me?” James raised his gaze. He felt uncomfortable with the way Steve was confining him. The fact that the blond was half naked only intensified the situation. He hesitated briefly before putting his hand on Steve’s shoulders. “You had so many ways to get my number.”

 

“I wanted to meet you on the field properly,” Steve replied quietly, overlapping James’ hand with his. “And let you know I’m doing good. Anyway, you didn’t look for me, either.”

 

James sighed again at the ridiculous reason that was typical of Rogers. Well, he did know that he was doing good. “My sister threw away the address you gave me. I didn’t even get to read the letter you wrote.”

 

“So that explains everything?” The revelation blew Steve’s mind, but he added quickly, “Bucky, we…”

 

“So, are you willing to remain as team captain?” James cut him off.

 

“...and you? Are you willing to follow me?” Steve asked instead. He wasn’t one to be underestimated.

 

James quirked his lips and looked at Steve’s blue eyes. Those obnoxious blues. Always relentless. Never knew when to give up.

 

“The little guy from Brooklyn,” James took the picture from Steve’s hand, shook it a couple of times before him, “who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I’m following him.”

 

X

 

For the rest of the qualifying rounds, not a single ball breached Steve’s goal. Before the opening of the official tournament, James quit the United States team due to unknown pain in his left back, though he still went to Germany with the team to watch Steve defend the goal for his country. The rookie tried his best, but the Americans were eventually eliminated at the group stage.

 

James went back to play for Bayern Munich for another four years. His injuries were persistent and never did leave him. When he was twenty-five, he was recruited by LA Galaxy and returned to the States. By then, twenty-four year old Steve was the star goalie of Liverpool. That same year, Fury enlisted their services for the national team. This time James and Steve took the Americans to South Africa successfully, but the team was eliminated in the top sixteen.

 

In 2012, the condition of Barnes’ left back injury deteriorated. After countless meticulous check-ups, the diagnosis was pain caused by a malignant nerve tumor. The severe pain affected the balance of the left side of his body, subsequently causing lack of strength in his left hand. The doctor’s prognosis was if the muscles and nerves in that part of the body were not removed, the tumor would spread to other parts of his body.

 

Eventually James agreed to the muscle and nerve excision of his left shoulder and officially declared the end of his soccer career.

 

X

 

At the end of every date with Sharon, Steve would take her home and kiss her goodbye at the door. Every time, a cloud of disappointment would darken Sharon’s face, but Steve had no idea why.

 

It wasn't until one day, after a radio interview, he overheard a couple of staff members talking outside the locker room. One of them sounded familiar, it was one of Sharon’s friends. Was it Melissa? Or Miranda?

 

“Well, Steve Rogers maybe good looking…”

 

“What? You can actually nitpick Mr. Perfect?”

 

“Let’s put it this way… he’s lacking in the libido department.”

 

“What?”

 

“He’s never touched Sharon. Kissing, yes, on the cheeks, on the corner of her lips, but never…” The woman extended the last word in exaggeration. “Not even once has he spent the night with Sharon. They don’t even sleep on the same bed, much less have sex. That guy is like a ninety-five year old grandpa.”

 

“Sharon told you that?”

 

“Once, when she was drunk. She cried, too. If not for the fact that Rogers goes on dates with her when he’s not training and behaves like the sweetest gentleman when they're together, Sharon would suspect Rogers might be seeing other ‘playmates.’”

 

“Like who? That Victoria’s Secret model?”

 

“Or one of his team mates. It’s the twenty-first century, it’s hard to tell,” the female voice continued. “Didn’t Gomez say gay footballers should come out? That being honest with their sexuality would improve their performance? Who knows?” The voices began to drift away. “If Steve Rogers comes out he might play even better.”

 

Steve stepped out of the locker room.

 

He stared at his palms with confusion, trying to fathom what he had just heard. Why was it, when they insinuated he was gay, the image of Bucky came to mind? More precisely, the image of him kissing Bucky. No, more explicitly, the image of him kissing a naked Bucky—

 

—How could this be? Steve turned his hands repeatedly, as if suspicious he had swapped bodies. He would have sworn that he had never had any thoughts like that about Bucky. Not even when he was standing next to him.

 

When he was in boarding school, he didn't have much personal space to think about sex. The school encouraged its students to participate in drama productions and even woodworking, in an attempt to keep them busy as long as they were awake. During vacations he would spend his days at the church sweeping the premises and doing other chores. The weather of Scotland was harsh. When there were no cleaning responsibilities, he would read the Bible and the Bible was no book for fantasizing. In any case, cleaning duty usually left him too wiped out to read the Bible and he would eventually fall asleep with the book still open.

 

He only learned about self-pleasure when he was training with the Liverpool Youth Soccer League. Ridiculous as it might sound, he had never tried it before. Why put in the effort when it sometimes happened naturally in his sleep?

 

But Bucky? Why Bucky? Steve covered his face with his hands. His best friend.

 

Was it because he was familiar with Bucky? But he was also familiar with numerous other people, why did it have to be Bucky? In his mind’s eye, Bucky was still the Bucky in Germany. His slightly long hair was always tied into a small ponytail. He always went for training wearing a tank top and shorts combo. Sometimes, when he got bored, he would practice bouncing the ball on his knees; a habit he had picked up in his childhood.

 

Whenever Bucky did that, it would bring back memories of their youth together. The close intimacy between them when they were kids.

 

Why Bucky? Steve wracked his brains for answers and found none. He was rarely confused and doubtful, but he couldn't bring himself to ask Bucky himself.

 

Bucky was too busy to give him an answer anyway. Probably had no idea how he himself had turned into the subject of Steve’s sexual fantasies.

 

On the other hand, Steve had a girlfriend. A girlfriend who had poured out her resentment only when she got drunk. Steve exhaled a long sigh. Sharon was a good woman. She really was. He had never thought about proposing to her, though that had always been on his schedule. But if she couldn't even talk to him about her feelings, what kind of couple were they?

 

Steve knew he was also at fault. He was always talking to Bucky, but Bucky never mentioned anything about relationships or sexual orientation.

 

Steve took a deep breath. Actually, Bucky did talk to him about that, but he was quick to dismiss the subject.

 

One time, the topic wasn't Steve and Sharon. The topic was Bucky and his Russian girlfriend. Bucky wasn't bragging about his ability or how hot his girlfriend was. Not even close. He just mentioned her name and smiled. Said he missed the time they’d had together during a vacation at a resort in Tahiti.

 

Steve remembered the sudden urge to play deaf. He felt detached from the topic, as if the world was enveloped by a veil, and Bucky’s voice was coming from underneath the water.

 

“Was Tahiti that fun?”

 

“Why? I can recommend a resort to book if you’re going.”

 

“You still want to go there?”

 

“Me? I thought you’d be going with Sharon.”

 

Bucky laughed on the other line of the phone, so he laughed, too.

 

That was probably the most in-depth discussion they’d had about their love life.

 

Bucky rarely asked about him and Sharon. Only a couple of times in 2006. He'd asked if they were serious and then reminded him to cherish the relationship. That was when Bucky first quit the national team due to his injury. They were at the hospital waiting for Bucky to get a check-up. The brunet’s expression was solemn and brooding due to the excruciating pain in his back, and yet he still remembered to remind Steve to spend more time with his girlfriend and Steve listened.

 

Only Bucky’s reminder didn't stay in his mind long enough.

 

Steve felt obliged to talk to Sharon about the issue.

 

But the moment he closed his eyes, Bucky’s smiling face flashed through his mind and suddenly a sensation of heat ran through his body. Steve felt his forehead with his hand, wondering if he had caught the flu. How else could he explain the delusional thoughts he was beginning to have for his friend?

 

In any case, Steve’s subconscious was far more honest than his brain. Later that evening, he woke with a start from a considerably explicit dream, one that drove him further into a confusing jumble of emotions. The amount of porn he had watched could be counted on all ten fingers, and none of those had featured two male lead actors. Even though he and Bucky had seen each other stark naked plenty of times when they were kids, he shouldn’t have had such vivid images in his dreams about Bucky’s…

 

What was worse, he didn't have the flu. As a matter of fact, he was way more lucid than usual.

 

He absolutely had to have a talk with Sharon.

 

X

 

On the day before the operation, James was sitting in the courtyard of Reagan Medical Center, absorbing the warm winter sun of California.

 

His career as a soccer player was more short-lived than he’d thought, but at least he had accomplished a few achievements: he’d played in the World Cup and reunited with his best friend Steve Rogers. Speaking of which, the famous Captain America had broken up with his girlfriend. In that “Bucky, I broke up with Sharon” call, Steve had wanted James to call him once the date of the operation had been confirmed.

 

James should have been concerned about whether or not Steve had recovered from the heartbreak, but he didn't want to know anything about Sharon Carter.

 

Speaking of heartbreak, who didn't have their heart broken? James had long recovered from the pain after his crush failed to blossom into his first love.

 

He had seen, in 2006, the picture on Steve’s bedside table. Sharon Carter, a sports anchor from a Liverpool local TV station. Very compatible with Steve Rogers. Sweethearts with golden hair. Both of them.

 

James didn't think it was necessary to let Steve know that he liked him. It was unpleasant, but it didn't matter to him who Steve was dating. It wasn't like Steve would ever like him back. Sooner or later, there would be a new girl after Sharon Carter. All he had to do was give advice and stand by Steve like a friend.

 

In any case, what they had now was much better than when they weren't friends. They would talk over the phone occasionally, find the time to catch up when it was off-season, have drinks together when Steve returned to the States. They didn't have to be around each other twenty-four seven, but they knew unequivocally that they were each other’s best friend. Nobody could replace James Barnes’ position next to Steve Rogers.

 

It was time to get back for his check-up.

 

James had refused to let his family accompany him, had refused to let Rumlow and the gang from high school visit. The operation only required local anesthesia and unless a serious accident happened—say, a blackout in the hospital resulting in the surgeon cutting his carotid artery—the entire procedure was essentially safe. He still couldn't return to the field, however successful the procedure was, let alone if it failed. From James’ point of view, it was unnecessary to involve so many people just to visit him at the hospital.

 

The media rarely called him the Winter Soldier now, but the pressure of rigorous training at Hydra and the pain of losing contact with his best friend in his youth left its mark on him. Subsequently, he became aloof and treated everyone passively. Many girls had made a move on him, but he wasn't interested. On the one hand, he had bottled up feelings for Steve which he couldn't divulge to anyone. On the other hand, he couldn't differentiate between the hearts and the calculated intentions of those girls. It wasn't like everyone that came near him wanted his bank account, but he couldn’t overlook the possibility and it wore him out.

 

He had tried to ignore his feelings for Steve and had dated Natasha, a tennis player from Russia, but the relationship ended eventually because both of them thought they fared much better as friends. He decided that he wasn't going to bother himself with relationships anymore. It was too much trouble.

 

“You’re not in your room.” It was Steve’s voice. The accusatory tone was too much for James’ comfort.

 

“I’m a patient, not a criminal.” James stood up. He wasn't wearing the usual hospital gown, just a loose shirt paired with a pair of soft pants. “You may have noticed, Rogers, that I am standing up and making my way back.”

 

“You didn’t tell me the operation was tomorrow. I only know because I called Mrs. Barnes.” Steve’s tone was more severe than before. Almost raging. “You said you would tell me.”

 

“Sorry, I forgot,” James apologized halfheartedly. He had forgotten to call. Deliberately. He didn't want to know about Steve’s rebound after the break up, but it would have been insensitive of him if he didn’t show his concern. The best way was to forget the whole thing about calling Steve, therefore saving himself the trouble of knowing anything he didn't want to hear.

 

After a long silence, so long that James thought Steve was really infuriated; he finally lifted his head to look at him.

 

That was when he realized the other man had been busy staring at his clenched fist. He just stood there. His expression grave.

 

James frowned. Steve was apparently holding something in his hand.

 

Another moment went by, Steve finally opened his mouth. “I have something for you.”

 

James assessed the size of the thing. “You brought candy? No food allowed before—”

 

Steve laughed in spite of himself then shook his head. “No.” He opened his palm to reveal the gold band lying in the center. A simple gold band with no adornments. It was Joseph Rogers’ wedding band, shipped back to the States together with his ashes and the flag. James recognized it immediately. He had seen it lying in the glass cabinet in the Rogers’ apartment when he was a kid. “I’m thinking of giving you the ring.”

 

James chuckled, a pang of pain shooting in his chest. He was terrified about Steve doing what he thought he was going to do, but he replied calmly, “I’m old enough, Steve, I don’t need a good luck charm.”

 

“It’s not a good luck charm.” Steve hesitated briefly, considering if he should kneel and so he did, on one knee. With his most solemn expression, he asked, “Bucky, will you marry me?”

 

Bucky rejected him without thinking. “No, I won’t, Rogers. Are you crazy?” Why did this have to happen right before his operation? He never had a single day of peace, James thought to himself. For most of his life, he had been struggling with his feelings for Steve. Now that he had finally sorted out his feelings and decided to position himself as Steve’s best friend and hide all his affection at a fitting distance, heaven forbade that and, after he had lost his ability to work, Steve told him that he loved him out of the blue.

 

He didn't just love him, he wanted to marry him? The reason behind the proposal aside, what was Steve thinking?

 

Steve’s brain was still befuddled from James’ rejection. The words of Stark, owner of LA Galaxy, sprang to mind. Stark had sworn that James had told Natasha Romanoff that the love of his life was his best friend Steve Rogers.

 

So why did Bucky reject him?

 

James’ expression was just as solemn. He said quietly, “I’m not going to die from the procedure. There are no risks, there's no win or lose. Whatever happens, I can’t run without hindrance and my career as a soccer player is over forever. But I’ll accept the outcome, good or bad, I'll survive and I’ll learn to get used to it. So, I don’t need your sympathy and wherever you got that suggestion from, there’s no need for you to do something so pointless.”

 

“I love you and that’s not pointless,” Steve retorted angrily. He was rarely angry. “Bucky! I know I…”

 

James’ brow knitted. “You don’t love me, Rogers. You’re straight. You love beautiful women like your distant relative, your cousin Sharon. I have no idea who told you about my feelings, but my feelings have nothing to do with you. Don’t be led by the nose.”

 

”Why do you think I broke up with Sharon?” Steve realized they weren't on the same page. “Her friends mocked me and called me a ninety-five year old grandpa because I’d never slept with her. I thought I cherished her, but the truth is, it had never crossed my mind. When I finally think about it…” Steve lifted the free hand that wasn't holding the ring and stroked James’ face. “All I think about is you.”

 

Carefully removing Steve’s hand, James took one step back, turned around and walked toward the building. “Go have a cup of coffee, Rogers. You’re not thinking straight.”

 

Standing in the sun, Steve watched the diminishing shape of James disappear into the building. He felt a sense of despair spreading through his bones, not unlike the time when James said he didn’t know him.

 

X

 

As predicted, there was no blackout during the procedure, but when the infected area was cut open, the medical team found that the cancer cells had spread more extensively than they had anticipated, threatening the bones. That changed everything. Since James was only anesthetized locally, the surgeon asked for his opinion straight away. In order to save his life, James agreed to amputation. The surgeon estimated the area to be amputated would start from the left shoulder muscles to the tips of the left hand. The entire left arm.

 

The surgery was immediately changed to general anesthesia and the duration was extended from the initial three hours to eight hours.

 

Steve’s heart turned cold when he saw an unconscious James being pushed out of the operation room with an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. This was different than what Pepper and Jarvis had told him. He was told that this would be an uncomplicated surgery, not an amputate-the-entire-left-arm surgery.

 

Steve stayed by James’ side the whole time and when the brunet finally regained consciousness, Steve held on tightly to his remaining right hand.

 

James woke up to find, lying on his chest, the gold ring on a necklace.

 

Steve leaned over and kissed him gently. “I don’t accept your rejection, Bucky. You said that you were following me, you can’t break your promise.”

 

X

 

Contrary to Steve’s wishes, James didn't agree to his proposal. The ring was still hanging around his neck only because he only had one hand left and the anesthesia hadn't yet worn off. He didn't have the strength to fight.

 

When he’d finally regained some strength, James made a call to Rumlow while Steve was out running some errands. Rumlow was now one of the best midfielders in the States. If it weren't for his injury in 2010, he would have gone to South Africa with them. When Steve learned that Rumlow was James’ high school classmate and buddy for years, his knitted brows were indignant, as if the fact that Rumlow had been James’ friend for years offended him.

 

Come to think of it, Steve was barely amiable with any of James’ friends.

 

The room was full of beautiful young ladies when Steve returned from his errands. One of them was feeding James with a flirtatious smile on her face. James’ smile was tender, as though the girl was his longtime sweetheart. If Steve didn’t know James well, he would have been mad and unhappy. Nobody would have liked seeing their fiancé fooling around with someone else.

 

But they had known each other for fifteen years. He knew that the other man was gauging his reaction from the corner of his eye.

 

Steve cut across the throng of girls with patience and came to the bed. James glanced at him and the girl who was feeding James actually stood up.

 

Steve had wanted to wait for her to finish feeding James, but it seemed like she has no intention of finishing the task. He sat down and took over instead.

 

But James refused to eat.

 

“Bucky...” Steve looked at his fiancé helplessly when the other man turned his head to the other side. Then he noticed his neck, bare without the ring. Steve spared one hand from holding the tray and searched the drawers of the side table, but he found nothing. Fully aware that James was not in the mood to answer his questions, Steve put the tray down on the patient dining table instead and walked over to the other side table to look for the ring.

 

A couple of girls came to his side as if waiting for him to stop what he was doing so that they could talk to him.

 

He strained a smile and told them not to wait for him. The girls left him alone, but a couple more came up to him.

 

James’ recovery room was paid for by Stark. The space was so capacious there were at least thirteen or fourteen young women in the room as though they were having a party. The girls came up to chat with James in small groups and even that took up a lot of time. Steve tried to be as gentlemanly as possible, but when yet another girl stretched out her dainty hand to brush James’ hair, Steve decided he’d had enough.

 

“Ladies, that’s my fiancé and this is a private space.” He stood at the door and tried to speak in the friendliest manner possible. “If it’s all right with you, I need to have a good chat with him. So please, we’d like to have our privacy back.”

 

The girls glanced at James. The brunet nodded impassively, and one by one they left the ward.

 

“Are you trying to get me a girlfriend? Thanks.” Steve had looked high and low, but he couldn't find the ring. “Where’s the ring?”

 

“I had your agent take it away.” James used his remaining hand to adjust his bed. Sleep would be a good way to ignore Steve. “Seems like you have yet to discuss with him your decision to get married. He’s shocked by your choice of partner, said he’ll ask you to think it over thoroughly. He’ll also have a discreet discussion with you. Think about all the compensation for breaching your commercial deals if you were to get married.”

 

Steve had indeed yet to talk to his managing agency, but he was definitely not the only talent in the company intent on coming out as gay.

 

“You do know that this is a private space, and I haven’t accepted your proposal. Now can I have my privacy back?”

 

Steve exhaled a long sigh, but he nodded, and got up to walk toward the door and leave the room as James requested.

 

Now was indeed the time for him to talk with his agency. When he walked out of the hospital, Steve took out his cell phone, turned it back on and got in a cab. He heard the other line pick up.

 

“I really want to marry James Barnes.”

 

He had a hunch that this conversation was going to be far more difficult than saving a twelve-yard long shot.

 

X

 

When James woke up again, he found the ring back on his neck. Immense frustration welled within him and he wanted to pull off the necklace, but he knew the importance of Joseph’s heirlooms to Steve, so he stopped himself. He also understood the significance behind Steve’s actions, but James didn't want to be the recipient. The implications were too deep and too profound, so much so that they were beyond his ability to shoulder all of it.

 

The United States had produced a world renowned soccer player whose market value was comparable to any professional player in Europe. Furthermore, he was a goalkeeper, a position that only came into the limelight when a critical moment arose. But however famous and popular he was, a goalie couldn't save every single goal. It only took a few failed saves for him to be the subject of malicious sneers and hostile taunts. And despite everything, Steve still succeeded in becoming an accomplished soccer player. Another six years had passed; the progress of twenty-five year old Steve Rogers was there for all to see. He had such a strong psychological quality that, even in the face of failure, he was capable of standing up and regrouping over and over again.

 

So if James had the best for Steve in mind, he would have to turn down the engagement with more stubbornness than Steve.

 

“Bucky?” Steve came out of the bathroom.

 

James glanced at Steve, pondering the best way to reject the blond so that he would accept his decision. Words were useless. Steve remembered all the promises they had exchanged as kids. On the one hand, James didn't remember any of those promises. On the other hand, he had no intention of arguing with the man who took their childish conversations so seriously. The words of children had no validity, but Steve was insistent that they couldn't go back on their word.

 

“Hey.” Steve could see the intricate thoughts running through his mind. James looked at him with a vexed expression, working his synapses to come up with ways to dissuade him. “My agent thinks I should start thinking about the wedding vow. I was writing it just now. You wanna give me some suggestions?”

 

James was sure he rolled his eyes.

 

“No? Thought so. I’ll read it to you at the wedding, okay?”

 

“No. Wedding.” The two words rolled out through James’ clenched teeth. “I am not getting married, how many times must I—”

 

“Twenty-six is considered late, Bucky.” Steve put down the draft of his wedding vow. “Pepper says she’ll take care of the press, there won’t be any negative opinions. She promises not a single media outlet will quote anything those irrational fans say on Twitter, no one is gonna disturb your family…”

 

“What am I, Steve?” James argued. “What am I, Steve? Nothing about me is important. I’ll soon be an ordinary man and my family has always been away from the limelight, why do I need protection? It’s you!” He was agitated. “You’re important! Your commercial deals, your private life, your team and your teammates, your contract, your everything!” James smacked his hand on the bed furiously. “Those are what matters! Why can’t you understand?”

 

Steve sat down by the bed and held James’ clenched fist. “Every time when I save a goal on the field, I feel so unreal because there’re still so many people out there trying to breach the goal. Saving one goal temporarily doesn’t exactly keep the goal from being attacked. It’s impossible to hold on tightly to every ball you save, and there’s nothing much in life that’s important to hold on to.”

 

He tried to unclench James’ hand to lace their fingers together; but James was James, he wasn't the kind to relent easily, nor would he let Steve have his way.

 

In the end, Steve prevailed. James was probably too tired, weak from days of a low fever caused by a flu virus.

“What’s important to me is the person I’m holding now,” said Steve calmly. “Before I had what I have now, I only had you. So it’s okay, I don’t really need those things. Even if everything disappears after marrying you, I don't care. All I ever wanted was you, it’s just as simple as that.”

 

On the day he broke up with Sharon, she'd asked him if he’d ever wondered whether there was another person in this world who would make his heart skip a beat. Steve told her everything. All those years she’d given him her heart, she deserved the truth. He confessed his powerful yearning for and conflicting thoughts of possessiveness for his childhood playmate. He didn’t want to hear anything about James’ relationships, not even his friendship with other people. At the same time, Steve tried to convince himself that if he cherished the friendship that he had reclaimed, he should accept the new life that James had, instead of having silly thoughts of being his only best friend.

 

“Fifteen years, Bucky.” Steve caressed James’ cheek with the other hand. “We’ve known each other for so long, are you really willing to banish me from your life? If I can’t be your life partner, I’ll have to leave you because it’s too painful for me to stay. Is that what you want? I can go, if that’s your wish. I’ll always respect your decision.”

 

But that wasn't an option.

 

“You’ll leave me if I don’t marry you,” James repeated the alternative Steve had given him.

 

Steve’s smile was strained.

 

“What if I tell you I’m fine with that, what other arguments do you have?” James pulled back his hand coolly. “I think I can handle not having contact with each other ‘till the end of our lives, what do you think?”

 

Steve had guessed that giving James an ultimatum would produce one of two results: the first being the response he was giving now, the second being James agreeing to marry him because he cared too much for Steve.

 

It was similar to what went on in a match. Sometimes he dove in the wrong direction, but it wasn't entirely irredeemable.

 

“My agency has already sent out the press release…”

 

“—Rogers—”

 

“The team knows. I got everything taken care of while you were comatose during your fever. Everyone, the advertisers, your parents, and your siblings, they all know. Anyone who wanted to lecture me gave me a piece of their mind; but I confess I slammed Rumlow first. One of those girls must have had the flu virus, you were so ill because your immune system was too weak. It’s his fault. As for the rest, I let them say what they wanted to say, but I will not accept your rejection of my proposal.”

 

Steve took James’ hand again. This time, he clasped it steadily with two hands, as if he was adrift, holding on to a piece of wood in the sea.

 

“One question, just one last question. I’ll accept your answer with no argument, even if I have to correct the engagement press release myself and drive my agency crazy, I don’t care.”

 

He leaned his head on their entwined hands.

 

“Do you love me?”

 

Afterward, whenever he thought about it, James concluded that it was a disadvantage to grow up together and know each other like they knew the back of their hands.

 

Steve was a dwarf on contemplation, a giant on action. Once he’d made a decision, the outcome was beyond one’s capability to shoulder. With his determination and perseverance, nothing was impossible, nothing was irreversible. James didn't know what it was like to live a life with the unwavering conviction that a man can prevail over destiny. He was long accustomed to compromising with fate and going along with it.

 

”No ceremony.” James gave Steve one last, exhausted struggle. “Absolutely no.”

 

With a satisfied smile, Steve leaned over to kiss his fiancé who was finally recovering from the flu. “Okay, no ceremony.”

 

X

 

Later, James agreed to be fitted for a prosthetic arm, courtesy of Stark’s company. His hand may not have been as nimble as before, but at least the weight was similar to that of an authentic arm, so that his body didn’t tilt to one side. Then there was the long period of physical therapy before and after the prosthetic installation. Darcy, his physiotherapist, was a petite woman whose witty puns and sly innuendoes made him laugh all the time. Once, after witnessing their interaction, Steve insisted on accompanying him to every session afterward.

 

With his contract in the process of renewal, Steve let his agency handle the negotiations while he stayed in Los Angeles with James whenever he could, and James was grateful to have Steve with him to face each challenge on the journey to recuperation.

 

The process was demanding, and when the pain became too much for him, Steve was always able to soothe his discomfort. Water therapy was included in the schedule. To prevent muscle atrophy, James had to exercise his prosthetic in water to revitalize and strengthen the remaining muscles on his left shoulder. He may have been an ex-professional soccer player, but every session of water therapy was still agonizing; the water pressure weighed down his movements and the pain was excruciating each time he moved.

 

Steve was always there with James during water therapy. He never let him rest, even when the pain became too unbearable for the brunet. On the contrary, he would plant several kisses on James’ cheek, and encourage him to complete one set, then another and another.

 

Prior to the end of James’ rehabilitation, Steve had to go back to Liverpool to sign his contract; but before that he had his lawyer prepare all the necessary papers for civil partnership in the States and England. James’ lawyer completed all the formalities accordingly and the couple was finally James Barnes-Rogers and Steve Barnes-Rogers.

 

Taking care to downplay the occasion, they refused to have any pictures taken, but agreed to have a small article featured on page six of the New York Times.

 

Under the witness of judicial constitution, the captain of the United States soccer team and his life partner began a new page in their life together.

 

X

 

During the 2014 World Cup in Brazil, Steve Rogers announced that it would be the last time he was representing the United States team. Although it was predicted that at the age of thirty he should still be able to play for at least one more tournament, even two, considering the stamina requirements for a goalkeeper; but Steve expressed his plans to travel the world with his partner and his increasing involvement in charity foundations.

 

Before the tournament, Steve gave a rare display of intimacy between him and his partner James, the journalist traveling with the team. During an interview with James, Steve pretended to answer a few questions seriously to conceal his intention to give the brunet a surprise attack. When the interview ended, he extended his arm to envelope James, who was turning to go, and cupped the brunet’s face in his hands to kiss him.

 

James smiled and turned his head to one side and the kiss only managed to land on his cheek, but he instantaneously returned a solid hug with his arms.

 

This was his Captain America. He would always follow him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is an epilogue.


	2. Epilogue: In Brazil

James was at the press conference, watching Steve being interviewed by the press. Everyone, especially the American journalists, were singing praises of his performance in the match. Sixteen successful saves. They were all in awe. Steve’s expression, however, remained indifferent. His team had been eliminated. They were going home. No matter how outstanding his performance was, it didn’t change the fact that their opponent had scored two goals. The other team was probably this years’ strongest contender and nobody blamed him, but James could tell from his demeanor that Steve blamed himself for the loss.

 

In Steve’s opinion, he should have been able to push the ball aside with the ball of his foot for the first goal scored in overtime. If only the angle had been more accurate. The second goal was even more unforgivable. He was so far away from the goal that he didn’t make it back in time to protect it. Steve reasoned it was his fault that the goal was breached twice. The team’s defenders consoled him, told him there was a hole in their defense, but Steve refused to accept their assertions.

 

To top it off, he was awarded player of the match.

 

Green assured Steve that no one blamed him and told him to enjoy his accomplishment. The honor belonged to him. Sixteen successful saves wasn't an easy record for anyone to break.

 

Seeing that Steve needed to talk to his teammates, James decided to leave and turned to take the elevator. A fellow journalist saw him and ran to stop his elevator, asking him for some comments.

 

“Rogers was awarded player of the match. In your opinion, as an ex-professional soccer player, do you think he deserves the award for his performance?”

 

His elevator. James looked at the elevator despondently, the door opening and closing before him. The guy was probably an inexperienced soccer journalist and had never encountered the period when people still called James the Winter Soldier. In those days, the journalists didn’t ask him any questions. They didn’t even think of asking. As the team commentator designated by the United States Soccer Federation, James’ responsibilities included giving professional commentaries to the audience and accepting interviews from fellow journalists.

 

He had already addressed questions as an openly gay soccer player more times than he could count, but the questions just kept coming.

 

“Of course I think he deserves the honor. He’s always been the best goalie to me.” James considered for a moment. “But like he said, it’s his responsibility to guard the goal. His performance doesn't matter if the team lost the match.”

 

“How would you describe his performance in the last four matches?”

 

“Very good.” James pushed the button and missed his ride again.

 

“Any other advice for him?”

 

And just then, the journalist noticed Steve Rogers approaching them as the blond embraced James tightly from behind. He looked exhausted, but still maintained his civility.

 

“I think my partner can tell me that himself; but right now I really need him. I hope you don’t mind.”

 

Awkwardly, the journalist agreed to let the couple go.

 

There were still people outside the conference room. Steve took James’ hand and guided him toward the passageway reserved for the players so that they could avoid further questions from the media.

 

The American team had a simple talk in the locker room after the match. The players congratulated one another and exchanged their thoughts on the match. Everyone on the team was kind and amiable. Not one of them made any comments on Steve’s choice of partner. Bucky was one of them; they still respected him very much.

 

Steve had seen James standing at the back of the press conference, watching him being interviewed. He was still wearing the shirt and pants combination he had on during the telecast of the match. But when Steve turned back to find Bucky after talking to Klinsmann for a minute, the brunet was nowhere to be found.

 

He had come out of the conference room to find the journalist pestering Bucky. Steve badly wanted to be with Bucky, and knowing how Bucky disliked taking questions, he ignored etiquette and interrupted the interview to reclaim his partner.

 

James knew Steve was exhausted, physically and mentally. Without a single word, he let him put an arm around his shoulders while he had his arm on the blond’s back. Supporting and grounding. Just like back when they were playing together.

 

“I wanted to take home the Golden Ball,” murmured Steve.

 

“And where do you put first rate soccer players like Messi and Mueller? You think you can block their attacks?” teased James.

 

“I did block Messi’s!” Steve protested indignantly. “Once. It was an eighteen-yard kick.”

 

“I do recall that.” James smiled and planted a quick peck on Steve’s cheek. “It’s okay, you’ve made some progress this time. It’ll get better. Let the next United States team work on getting the trophy. You can’t monopolize the title of the highest earning soccer player in American history, or the World Cup, or the Lev Yashin Award.”

 

Steve reminded him, “They call it the Golden Glove Award now.”

 

“But Lev Yashin is your favorite goalkeeper, you should want the Lev Yashin Award more.”

 

Shaking his head nonchalantly, Steve kissed James’ temple. “I don’t need any awards, I have you.”

 

“Now look who’s sweet talking.” James couldn’t help teasing Steve about one of his magazine interviews where Steve chided himself for being unromantic and bad at sweet talk. He didn't think he was the tender lover everyone saw him to be. “And you’re very tender.”

 

“It wasn’t sweet talk,” Steve explained. “I just want you to know that.”

 

James stopped walking, lifted his hand to cup Steve’s face and pressed his lips with his own. Steve reciprocated with equal fervor.

 

Between kisses, James smiled with a light sigh. “You’ve been very clear about it.”

 

Even after all the paperwork, James still didn’t think Steve actually had any idea what had happened between the two of them. First of all, it all started when they were at a very young age. They were intimate back then, but it was an intimacy defined by a promise between two kids who deemed themselves to be each other’s best friend. A childish presumption without too much emotional investment. It would have ended with the passing of time and most people would have moved on; but James cared, and so did Steve. They might have been apart, yet the connection remained.

 

That was probably the fledgling stage of love.

 

James was aware that he had a little crush on Steve after their reunion. He was also aware that the other man was in a serious relationship with a woman and immediately assumed that he didn't stand a chance. For one, his sex wasn't right; also, he wasn't the kind of person to snatch another person's boyfriend. James’ attitude had always been to refuse no one, regret no one. Moreover, he’d had a girl in Germany who had also played soccer, although he sometimes had the feeling of something being amiss when he was with her.

 

James more or less understood what was wrong when he saw Steve again. He also knew that he would have his heart broken.

 

And when his recurring injuries affected his professional performance, any thoughts about relationships had been banished from his mind. Until Natasha came into the picture.

 

Natasha was strong and beautiful and very straightforward. The two of them belonged to the same management agency and had met at the agency’s year-end party. Natasha made more money than James. She started playing tennis at a young age and had won many championships. In comparison to her chilly attitude on the court, Natasha was charming and humorous. James liked her and wanted to spend more time with her. He seemed to think less about Steve when he was around her, too.

 

They had a happy time together. Marriage was even discussed.

 

But James knew the difference between being scared of loneliness and getting married. Not to mention he was grasping at straws. Natasha’s father was controlling and forceful. A typical Russian man. To him, James wasn't good enough for his daughter. Just a man Natasha had picked to spite him.

 

James never did ask Natasha if that was true. The topic of marriage was probably the most romantic sweet talk between them. Only the more they talked about it, the less motivated they were. It soon became nothing but words for show. The marriage never did happen and eventually they broke up. Natasha was married to her physical trainer within a few months. They were a happy couple and Natasha’s father was pissed.

 

James and Natasha remained friends with each other, though. He might or might not have told her a couple of stories about Steve, or rather someone like Steve, who meant something special to him. Natasha didn’t expose that the individual mentioned in all his stories was, in fact, Steve Rogers. She did, however, give some really good advice.

 

You can bury the truth, but it will resurface one day.

 

And then came the bad news of his surgery and Steve flew all the way from England to the States the moment he heard about it.

 

James had no idea why he had come. James didn't need help with the medical expenses, he was surrounded by friends and family, and he didn't need a shoulder to cry on; but he still gave Steve a summary of his condition, told him there was nothing to worry about, then sent him right back to the airport and demanded he focus on his work, instead of running around. James had borrowed Stark’s private jet to fly Steve back to England, and Stark got bored and started talking to Steve about some of the gossip surrounding James. Later, James learned how his feelings for Steve had been passed from Natasha to Pepper to Jarvis and eventually to Stark’s ears. And of course Stark considered the information breaking news and told Steve all about it.

 

Stark had given him trouble, thought James. He’d had no intention of confessing his feelings for Steve. He didn’t even want to define what those feelings were. And then he had no choice but to confront the avalanche of information. Steve believed in principles, and the principle of being in a relationship was getting married.

 

In Steve’s reasoning, since he was so much in love with James, the most logical way to express it was to tell James that he wanted to marry him. He had ignored the fact that most people go through a process before getting married. People go on dates, spend time together, make sure they are compatible in their habits, taste in food, daily lives, and sex lives. People compromise and conform to achieve an understanding.

 

“We didn't even go on a single date and I have to sign this piece of paper?” complained James over the phone.

 

“We didn’t?” Steve sounded surprised.

 

“Steve, you didn’t even properly tell me how you feel.” James held the phone between his ear and shoulder, turning the pages of the documents.

 

“But I want to marry you, I’m positive we’re good. You know everything about me and I, you. Do we need to do something else to prove it?” Steve explained his logic calmly. “Those people do what they do because they’re uncertain; but I’m not, Bucky. I only want to marry you and I wanna be with you for the rest of my life.”

 

James was suddenly speechless on the other line. He wondered which was wrong? The logic he’d always known, or Steve’s impeccable reasoning. In any case, Steve wasn't wrong. The only thing they had left to do was sleep together. Well, those nights Steve spent with him in his apartment in Los Angeles after his therapy sessions probably counted.

 

James rested his face in his hands and stared at the documents moodily. He had turned on the speaker mode on his cell phone and he could hear the sounds coming from Steve’s television, and then came Steve’s steady breathing. James considered the time difference. It was bedtime for the other man, and so he hung up.

 

James’ mother had told him the same thing. If, after knowing every single detail about a person, you still want to marry them, then the abundance of love in the relationship is undeniable. Because only love makes a person lovable even after they’ve been stripped and exposed. From a mother’s point of view, James wasn't exactly a lovable guy. He carried his family’s financial burden at too young an age, and not many women found a stoic man charming.

 

Steve didn’t care if James was complex or profound; he only cared about James and that was that.

 

And so, despite his chagrin about the fact that he was getting married without going on a single date, James signed the papers. The next day, under the witness of his lawyer and the notary, his status was instantly changed. Just like that. Yet it was like nothing had changed. Quiet and silent.

 

Next thing he knew, Steve’s stuff began to occupy his luxurious condominium in Los Angeles. His usual training equipment was replaced by Steve’s. In Steve’s red brick house on the Liverpool waterfront, James’ therapy balls for prosthetic coordination practice were found scattered all over the place. James had also taken down the fuchsia curtains—Steve denied buying the curtains, nor would he reveal the name of the person who did—and replaced them with muslin for sunlight to filter in. Steve, on the other hand, had bought an ugly watercolor painting, framed and hung it in James’ modern minimalistic apartment, and claimed that he had increased the brunet’s nonexistent appreciation for the arts.

 

James began to find himself waking up among steel gray sheets, uncertain where he was.

 

Because little by little, two different worlds had merged into one.

 

Everywhere he went, James kept the house spick-and-span. It was no wonder two totally different properties could look strangely similar. Used to taking care of himself, James also had his own logic for arranging everything in the house, to which the part-time domestic help was strictly required to adhere. James did fire a housekeeper once for that reason, but he’d also referred her to a wealthy lady living in the penthouse in their building. She didn't mind having her belongings being moved around without her permission, and the housekeeper was now happily working for her.

 

Steve, on the contrary, had no logic whatsoever. He picked things up from wherever they were and put them down wherever he went, but he never failed to find anything. Knives, forks, towels, even condom boxes, things were always where they were supposed to be when he needed them.

 

Once, Steve had the opportunity to witness how everything was returned to its original spot.

 

They were both tired after an evening of passionate lovemaking. Bucky had fallen asleep almost immediately while Steve had remained inside him, holding him tightly. It was near noon when Bucky struggled to get up to get ready for his lessons at UCLA, and Steve had woken up unavoidably. Bucky gave him a quick peck on his eyelids, motioning him to go back to sleep. He did and when he opened his eyes again, he was just in time to see Bucky in the process of putting everything back where it belonged.

 

His Bucky was already wearing a simple outfit, picking up the discarded clothes on the floor with skilled efficiency and putting them into the laundry basket. He then took the garbage can and chucked the contents into the chute. As the apartment was an open space with no walls, Steve was able to see whatever Bucky was doing. Scattered tableware was put into the dishwasher, the washing machine started to work, all the throw pillows on the couch arms were back to their original spots, even the coat that was draped on the back of the couch was hung back in the closet in the hallway.

 

Next Bucky backtracked from the hallway to the glass-walled bathroom to freshen up himself. Both the apartment and his Bucky were polished. Before heading to the door, Bucky took out the laundry and dumped the clothes into the dryer above. Then, as if remembering something, he put down his bag and the long-handled umbrella for rainy weather. From his position next to the dryer, Bucky took big steps toward the bed and lowered himself to give Steve a deep kiss.

 

Then he gave Steve’s ass a hard slap. “Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty.”

 

Steve laughed and sat up on the bed and watched James open the door to leave the apartment, clad in Steve’s leather jacket.

 

After getting his degree in Mass Communications, James started working as a commentator for sports programs. He also wrote sports news regularly.

 

For the World Cup, the United States team had invited James to be the team’s commentating journalist almost immediately. In collaboration with ESPN, from day one after the arrival of the Americans, James introduced the history of the World Cup to national audiences and talked about the performance of the United States team in past tournaments. Most countries assigned pretty journalists for the job, so it was unsurprising that James was always surrounded by women from all over the globe when they gathered for meals. A couple of days earlier, people were trying to get the number of the handsome brunet. On the third day, after the United States team captain had openly kissed him on the cheek, the same people diverted their attention to asking for other players’ numbers.

 

X

 

When they finally got back to the hotel in a car, Steve didn't return to the room the team had arranged for him, instead he went to James’ single room. The only way to alleviate the grim feeling of losing a match was to be in bed with the love of his life in his arms.

 

Although Steve had already cleaned up before the press conference, he was all sweaty again after taking the path near the stadium.

 

So he ignored Bucky’s protests and crashed the bathroom with him.

 

After one-hundred and twenty minutes of fierce battle on the field, Steve didn’t do anything, just put his head on Bucky’s shoulder, getting in his way to shower.

 

When they were done, they helped dry each other’s hair before coming out of the bathroom. The size of the single bed was limited. There were hardly any large-scale international hotels in El Salvador and the Sheraton was already packed with soccer fans. The United States team had picked this small-scale hotel with a sea view. All personnel related to the team were located on the third floor.

 

Steve went to bed first. James joined him shortly after carefully considering the awkward situation. He squeezed himself between Steve’s arms to make himself as comfortable as possible. Soon enough, he heard the steady sound of Steve’s breathing, but sleep didn't come for him.

 

Soccer was James’ life; Steve had always been there all for him. And now soccer had become a testimony of Steve’s glory, James’ past, but it was still a part of his life.

 

Somehow the activity in his brain woke Steve, who should have been in a deep sleep. A rain of kisses fell on his cheeks. “What are you thinking?”

 

“If the national team enlists for your service four years from now, you’d still go, right?” said James. “You should go.”

 

“I thought we already have our plans made for the next six years?” Steve laughed mellowly. “My contract with Liverpool has expired and my agency has agreed to my decision to not renew the contract. It’s not easy to be enlisted if you’re not playing for a professional team.”

 

“Beckham’s new team in Miami is courting you, and Stark is always waiting for you to transfer.” James kissed Steve’s cheek. “There’s always a place for you if you want to play, Steve. You’re the national symbol for American soccer.”

 

“I thought that title was history when I went public with my partner.” Even then, whether in England or the States, people still spewed vile comments at Steve when they saw him. “We have each other and that’s enough. How can I make you trust me?”

 

“Of course I trust you.” James sighed, burying his head deeper in the crook Steve’s neck.

 

Steve tightened his embrace. He hated it when James sighed.

 

“You’ll make the right decision when the time comes,” James’ voice was drowsy. “In any case, I’m with you.”

 

That was written on the wedding vows they never read openly.

 

“Yeah.” Steve closed his eyes and wrapped his partner a little tighter.

 

To be with each other, 'till the end of the line.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am [here](http://yensasha.tumblr.com), in case you want to know.


End file.
